usatvline Chapter 518 An Encounter with the Azure Sky Sword Sect
Chapter 518 An Encounter with the Azure Sky Sword Sect
Xu Fenghua cried for a long time.
So long that the moonlight outside the window moved from the east to the west.
As the candle burned out bit by bit, the candle wax condensed on the candlestick into dark red, solidified flowers.
So long that all her tears had dried up, leaving only dry, empty eyes that could no longer shed a tear.
She stood up, her legs feeling weak, and staggered before grabbing the edge of the table beside her to steady herself.
She staggered to the bedside and lay down.
The brocade quilt was cold, like a body of water soaked in moonlight.
She pulled the blanket over herself, curled up into a small ball at the very back of the bed, her back against the wall, like a frightened hedgehog, shrinking into a ball with all her quills pointing outwards.
Tears are still flowing.
Like beads from a broken string, tears streamed down her face, one by one, soaking her pillowcase.
A small, dark stain spread across the pillowcase, like a withered flower blooming in the snow.
Qin Mu's words echoed repeatedly in her mind: "I just want to see just how much courage my Prince of Zhenbei has."
Longxiang, you must be smarter.
You must be able to tell that the letter is fake.
You must see through this trap.
You must not fall for it.
Otherwise... otherwise, your sister really can't save you.
She closed her eyes and prayed silently.
Moonlight seeped in through the cracks in the window, spreading a thin layer of silver frost on the ground.
The night breeze seeped in through the cracks in the window, causing the candlelight to flicker gently, sometimes bright and sometimes dim.
Her shadow was cast on the mottled wall, all alone, huddled into a small ball.
The tear stains on the pillowcase were still wet.
The moon outside the window has already set in the west.
It's almost dawn.
A new day, new struggles, new despair await her.
The next day, just as dawn was breaking, Xu Fenghua opened her eyes.
Her eyes were bloodshot, her eye sockets were slightly red, and she stared blankly at the top of the tent.
She didn't sleep a wink all night, lying in bed from dusk till midnight, and from midnight till the moon was setting in the west. Countless thoughts surged through her mind, each one being repeatedly chewed over, crushed, and pieced together.
She thought about it for a long time, about many things, from the day she was forcibly taken as a concubine, to Xu Longxiang's schemes, to Qin Mu's methods, to the child in her womb, and to what the fortune teller had said: "It will grow up healthy and strong and will receive endless love in the future."
She finally figured it out.
She gave up.
He no longer thought about helping his younger brother overthrow Qin Mu, no longer thought about risking his child, and no longer thought about those vague and unattainable opportunities.
All she wanted was to give birth to her child safely, let him grow up in the sunshine, to be loved, and to let him be a carefree child.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tears silently slid down her cheeks, dripping onto the pillow and spreading into a small, dark stain.
She opened her eyes, wiped away her tears, sat up, and began to get dressed and wash up.
Half an hour later, everyone was ready.
Qin Mu stood at the entrance of the inn, his hands behind his back, his moon-white robe fluttering gently in the morning breeze.
A faint, ambiguous smile played on his lips as he gazed at the distant mountain ridge illuminated by the morning light.
Jiang Zhaoyue stood beside him, carrying a bundle in her hand, her head lowered, her eyelashes drooping slightly.
Yunluan led her horse, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping across every corner.
Su Wan stood at the very back, dressed in a plain white dress, her hair tied in a simple bun, her face bare of makeup, timidly surveying the city she had lived in for over twenty years but had never truly understood.
Xu Fenghua walked out of the inn, her face pale and her eyes slightly red, but her back was straight and her steps were steady.
She walked to Qin Mu's side, stopped, lowered her head, and said nothing.
Qin Mu glanced at her, asked nothing, and simply turned around and walked towards the carriage.
"Let's go."
The carriage started slowly, its wheels rolling over the bluestone slabs with a "clattering" sound, and gradually disappeared into the morning mist.
The outline of Yanmen City grew smaller and smaller in the morning light, becoming increasingly blurred, until it finally disappeared on the horizon behind us.
On both sides of the official road stretched an endless wilderness, with withered yellow grass rustling in the autumn wind, and several eagles circling high in the distance.
Most of the poplar leaves on the roadside have fallen, and the bare branches stretch towards the sky like withered hands.
Qin Mu sat in the carriage, lifted the curtain, and looked out at the vast scenery, a smile still on his lips.
Jiang Zhaoyue sat beside him, holding a book in her hands, but she wasn't reading it.
Xu Fenghua sat in the corner, head down, her gaze fixed on her slightly folded hands.
Yunluan rode on horseback beside the carriage, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over every bush, every withered tree, and every earthen slope.
Yun Suxin and Han Xin'er sat in the corner.
Su Wan sat on the carriage shaft, hugging her knees, gazing at the increasingly expansive sky in the distance, her eyes slightly reddening.
She didn't know what lay ahead, or what awaited her. All she knew was that she had finally left the city that had imprisoned her for over twenty years.
The carriage traveled north along the official road, passing through fields, villages, and small towns.
The city of Yanmen behind us is getting farther and farther away, while the northern heartland ahead is getting closer and closer.
The wind blew from the north, carrying the chill of early winter, making the carriage curtains flutter.
Qin Mu leaned against the car wall, closed his eyes, and tapped his knees lightly with his fingers.
"A gentle breeze," he said softly.
At this time,
"Young master, there are people ahead." Yunluan's voice came from outside the carriage curtain, clear and calm.
Qin Mu opened his eyes, lifted the carriage curtain, and looked ahead.
At the end of the official road, a group of people were hurrying on their way.
They wore uniform blue robes with silver cloud patterns embroidered on the lapels and cuffs, long swords hanging at their waists, and marched in unison with an extraordinary bearing.
The morning light shone from the east, gilding the silvery cloud patterns with a pale golden glow, making them look like a flowing cloud.
Qin Mu's eyes flickered slightly, and a smile slowly appeared on his lips.
He recognized the robes—the Qinglan Sword Sect robes.
"Stop the car," he said softly.
Yunluan pulled on the reins, and the carriage came to a steady stop.
The pedestrians also stopped.
The leader was a young man with a square face, high brow bones, deep-set eyes, and a jawline as sharp as if carved by a knife.
He wore a dark blue Taoist robe, with an ancient longsword hanging at his waist. The scabbard was engraved with the words "Qinglan," and the sword tassel was dark blue, fluttering gently in the morning breeze.
His gaze fell on the carriage, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes, like a vigilant eagle judging whether the newcomer was friend or foe.
Qin Mu lifted the carriage curtain and stepped out.
The moon-white robe fluttered gently in the morning breeze, its hem brushing against the tips of withered grass without making a sound.
He stood with his hands behind his back, a half-smile playing on his lips, his gaze calm as still water, like a bottomless pool.
"Sword, it's been a long time."
The man's pupils suddenly contracted, as if he had been pricked by a needle.
His body jolted violently, and he froze on the spot as if he had been struck by a pressure point, forgetting even to breathe.
His eyes widened, the moon-white figure reflected deep within his pupils, as if confirming that this was not a dream, not an illusion, not some malicious enemy disguised as that person.
The disciples behind him looked at each other, wondering who this extraordinary young man was and why he dared to address the sect leader by his name.
Some people frowned, some put their hands on the hilt of their swords, and some turned their heads to ask their senior brothers in a low voice.
Jianlai's lips trembled violently; the words rolled back and forth in his throat countless times before finally being squeezed out.
His voice was hoarse and urgent, carrying a suppressed, almost trembling excitement.
"Your Majesty...Young Master! What are you doing here?"
He stepped forward uncontrollably, clasped his hands together, bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching his knees.
His disciples behind him were even more bewildered. Their sect leader, the head of the Qinglan Sword Sect, and one of the top three sword masters in the world, was actually bowing so deeply to this young man.
Some people gaped in disbelief, some didn't even realize the reins had fallen from their hands, and some turned to whisper to their fellow disciples, their eyes filled with shock and confusion.
Qin Mu smiled, stepped forward, and gently patted Jian Lai's shoulder.
"Just going out for a walk to clear your head. Where are you headed?"
His gaze shifted from Jian Lai to the disciples of the Qinglan Sword Sect behind him.
Those young faces were either shocked, confused, curious, or wary.
Wherever his gaze fell, it was like an invisible wind, causing the disciples to lower their heads, not daring to meet his eyes.
The oppressive force was so strong that they found it difficult to even breathe, as if an invisible mountain was pressing down on their shoulders, making it hard for them to catch their breath.
Jian Lai straightened up, his gaze falling on Qin Mu's face, his eyes filled with respect and excitement.
That respect wasn't feigned; it came from the very core of my being, a heartfelt reverence.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his surging excitement little by little, his voice hoarse.
"Reporting to Young Master, the Northern Territory is holding a martial arts tournament, inviting heroes from all over the world. The Azure Cloud Sword Sect has received the invitation, and I am leading my disciples there."
His voice was steady, but beneath that steadiness was an uncontrollable tremor.
His palms were sweaty and sticky, and felt icy cold against his skin.
Qin Mu nodded. "Perfect, I'll join in the fun too. Let's go together."
He turned around, stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the carriage, the smile still lingering on his lips.
The morning light shone on him, outlining his moon-white figure with exceptional clarity, like a sword sleeping in its sheath, silent yet exuding an invisible aura that made everyone hold their breath.
Jian Lai was slightly taken aback, then quickly stepped aside and made a "please" gesture.
His arm stretched out straight out, like a sword drawn from its sheath, his posture as respectful as a subject welcoming a king.
"Please go first, young master."
Qin Mu waved his hand casually. "No need for such formalities. I'll take a carriage, you ride horses, each of you go your own way. We'll meet again when we reach the Northern Border."
He turned around and walked toward the carriage.
Jianlai stood there, gazing at the moon-white figure, his eyes slightly reddening.
He recalled how Qin Mu had effortlessly defeated Li Wuhen on Qinglan Mountain, rescued him from his predicament, and single-handedly placed him in the position of sect leader of the Qinglan Sword Sect.
Those images flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern, frame by frame, as clear as if they were engraved on his bones.
That lazy, nonchalant young man, yet capable of turning the world upside down with a flick of his wrist, the one who gave him everything.
He could never repay those debts of gratitude in his lifetime.
His lips trembled violently, and tears welled up in his eyes, but he held them back tightly.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his surging excitement little by little, turned around, and faced the disciples who were still in a daze. His voice was steady and carried an unquestionable authority.
"Walk."
Although the disciples were full of doubts, they dared not ask any more questions.
They mounted their horses in unison, their armor clanging and producing a crisp metallic scraping sound.
The horses snorted and their hooves paved the yellow earth, raising clouds of dust.
Someone turned their head and secretly glanced at the carriage out of the corner of their eye, their eyes full of curiosity.
Some people lowered their heads, looking at the sword in their hands, their brows furrowed.
Someone opened their mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again.
The carriage continued on its way, with the Qinglan Sword Sect's troops following behind.
The two groups, one after the other, headed towards the heart of the northern border.
The wheels rolled over the gravel, making a monotonous "clunk" sound, and the horses' hooves kicked up fine dust as they trod on the yellow earth.
The morning light shone from the east, bathing the entire team in a pale golden glow, like a river slowly flowing across the vast land.
The wind blew from the north, carrying the chill of early winter, making the carriage curtains flutter.